Snapshots
by TheSouthernScribe
Summary: A glimpse into my personal canon for Bonnie and Damon. Short drabbles that focus on the changes in their relationship. Random, unrelated little pieces of fic and the witch and the vamp she loves to hate.
1. They're Playing Our Song

_So a meme on LJ, sparked the muse and created a few new ideas for Bonnie and Damon drabbles. These will be random snippets of things that I call canon in my writing verse for the witch and the vamp. Hope you guys enjoy. _

This first one is inspired by Florence + The Machine's Drumming Song

**They're Playing Our Song**

Stefan really had bad taste in music. So when he started going on about some girl and her machine. He just ignored his baby brother and chalked his musical recommendation up to trying to play Mr. Sensitive for missus again. After all he was the cool brother and Stefan was the square. Who wanted to listen to some chick cry about lungs, coffins, and stars?

Damon's appreciation for the Welsh beauty's lyrics began shortly after the first time Bonnie tried to make his brain explode from the inside out. It hurt like pure hell. Worse than the almost death he'd endured to achieve immortality and a fairytale ending filled with eternal bliss with the ex that shall not be named. Still, he would never tell Bonnie that, every time she focused and forced her way into his brain he prayed to a God who no longer knew his voice for the end.

Then he heard those damn lyrics.

_Sweeter than heaven…_

_Hotter than hell..._

And he wanted more.

Armed with an unlimited supply of sarcasm he attacked. Dishing insult after insult, blow after blow, until she exploded. Bonnie's fuse was as short as Damon's and soon he began to associate the little witch with both pleasure and pain.

Finally he could feel again.


	2. Chinese Food on a Friday Night

**Chinese Food on a Friday Night**

"Why are the menus always on this faded pink paper."

Damon tosses the folded brochure across the room, ignoring Bonnie's attempts to shush him.

"I'm trying to order."

Her hand covers the receiver and he can't resists the smirk that graces his face.

"You can't call that ordering."

She slowly begins to speak in the receiver and he mouths the words she'll say before they even leave her lips.

_Two springs rolls..._

__

An order of fried wontons...no not the crap rangoon...just the wontons...

Teriyaki chicken on a stick...

Seriously who eats chicken on a stick.

He throws a pillow at her head because he can and she continues with her order, stressing the importance of the inclusion of enough duck sauce to take a bath in and quite possibly an extra container of that red sweet sauce for the wontons. She doesn't eat food, she snacks, and what's worse she refuses to share, citing the fact that he doesn't actually digest as a reason he can't indulge in what she eats.

Whatever.

A second pillow floats towards her head.

Bonnie's half amused and fully irritated when she hangs up the phone. Her tiny little hand rubs circles on her stomach before she speaks.

"Thirty minutes."

Out of habit Damon shifts, creating more room for her to slide in next to him on the sofa. He hands over the remote without a word, refusing to argue about watching Skins or any other show with teenagers having more sex than he has in the past month. He's still smirking and thinking when his finger twirls around one of her stray curls, he doesn't know how or when Bonnie Bennett became his friend.


	3. XOXO

**XOXO**

Damon tries to pronounce the name and it makes her laugh.

"Cecily von Ziegesar."

The name rolls off Bonnie's tongue like water. She half expects him to roll his eyes before condemning her choice of reading material. She never anticipates one Damon Salvatore to...

"Wait, so it was a book before it became a tv show?"

It takes her close to forty seconds to close her month and find a voice to respond. Even then it comes out a little husky, full of confusion, as her finger extends in his direction.

"You..." 

He ignores her, continuing to flip through pages, reading chunks, eyes stretched, and sounds of amusement drifting from his lips; before he slams the book down and meets her gaze.

"Don't look at me like that Bennett, Serena is hot and well Blair Waldorf looks like she could possibly be a good..." Her pauses before he completes his statement and the conversation takes a slight turn, "_You_ kind of remind me of her"

She doesn't tell him that her mind fills with images of _him_, every time Chuck Bass graces the screen.

"Serena or Blair?"

Damon's eyebrow quirks with his unspoken question.

"Who do I remind you of, Serena or Blair?"

"Blair."

He snatches a fry from her plate before he disappears in the crowd.

On Monday night at 9pm Bonnie receives a text from a familiar number with the simple letters _XOXO_.


	4. Bedtime Stories

_And now it's time to work on Snapshots. _

_Thank you to everyone who read the first two drabbles - commented, alerted, favorited, and adored. Thank you so very much. Again, these are just little snippets of what's canon in my Bonnie and Damon world. They have night time convos alot. So here's a glimpse of one of those moments, with a little bit of Sheila mixed in for good measure. I hope you guys enjoy. _

**_Bedtime Stories_**

The ringing of the phone in the kitchen was a distant irritation that interrupted my sleep.

Who called Damon Salvatore before noon?

No one, if they wanted to maintain all twelve pints of blood in their precious little bodies.

I dragged myself from the warmth of Egyptian cotton, tumbled down the stairs, and finally lifted the phone from the cradle on the third ring.

"Speak."

I was met with the sound of air blowing from the caller's mouth. Only one person confronted me with that attitude.

"Damon."

I hated the way Sheila Bennett made me feel like the kid who didn't do his homework with just the utterance of my name.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?'

"Kiss my ass."

I'd offered more than once, but she'd always managed to set me on fire, send me flying into a wall, but never would she let me make good on her request.

"How can I be of assistance so early," My eyes darted to the clock on the wall, "On this bright beautiful Monday morning?"

The caller waited for her irritation to pass before responding.

"Get your ass to the hospital and make your presence known."

The dial tone droned on in my ears as I returned to the receiver to its rightful place.

"Damn demanding Bennetts."

Of course Sheila's magic fearing moron of a son would father a child that would break the laws of existence forcing me from my bed before the opening notes of Young and Restless could be heard.

I took my time reaching the hospital. Of course Sheila was waiting, hands on hips, eyes stretched, and finger pointed in my direction. She started in before I even reached the sliding glass door.

"Listen…"

"Give it a rest Sheila."

I turned to meet her fiery gaze, matching her intensity with an intimidating glare of my own.

It didn't work; she whacked me up side the head.

"Look I did the same thing when the giant was born."

I got an upper cut to the chin for the disrespectful tone in which I spoke about her son.

"I paid a well timed visit to the nursery on the day of your birth."

Sheila turned on her heel and stalked off.

I followed her into the building and down the hall to the nursery. She walked over to a window and pointed at the only pink blanket in a sea of blue. A tiny, chubby bundle twisted and turned in the temporary crib, wailing at the top of her lungs.

_Bonnie._

I watched the woman soften, "This ones special Damon."

I didn't see what was so special about her; tufts of curly brown hair, pink lips that fought to find her fist, and green eyes opened wide studying everything around her. She was fragile, beautiful, and she smelled like shit. Someone really needed to change that kid's diaper.

**...OxOx...**

Bonnie sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Gathering her thoughts about tonight's bedtime story.

"So wait you started stalking me the day I was born?"

I tried to pull her closer but she refused to budge.

"You make it sound like I'm a pedophile." I brushed a stray curl from her face, "It was my job."

I hated when her lips twisted into that half- frown, semi - smirk, it usually meant she was thinking too hard which would eventually lead to a fight and me on the other side of her bedroom window.

_Or_ that my ass would soon be on fire.

Bonnie's eyes slanted and a hollow tone filled her voice, "A job."

She disentangled herself from my arms and moved to the edge of the bed.

"That was then…"

I decided to let my body say the rest. I slipped closer and erased the space between us. My hands skimmed the curves of her body before resting on the top of her thighs.

"Now stalking is the best foreplay around."

My lips drifted to the space where her neck swept into her shoulder. I allowed my fingers to slip beneath the straps of her tee.

Bonnie answered with a soft moan and a sarcastic remark of epic proportions, "Best foreplay ever?"

I removed the obstructing ponytail from the area of skin begging for my attention and nipped lightly at the nape of her neck.

"Do you have a better idea Ms. Bennett?"

I felt her head nod and I leaned back preparing for what she had to offer, oblivious to the smell of _my _burning flesh.

"What the hell Bonnie?"

I jumped off the bed and danced around the room in an attempt to extinguish the flame crawling up my leg.

A wicked gleam filled her eyes, "That's for saying I smelled like shit."


	5. Hidden Meanings

_I intended for this one to be something entirely different. Oh well, hope you like it. _

_In Ki's Canon...Bonnie and Damon...text alot...here's a glimpse that veered and went in another direction..._

_**Hidden Meanings**_

Bonnie's phone buzzed in the palm of her hand. Against her better judgment, she tapped the screen and read the words in the blue bubble.

_*Look at that vein in the center of Stefan's forehead*_

She quickly wiped the message from her screen with the flick of her index finger, only to be distracted by a steady stream of sensations.

_*Don't ignore me*_

_*Look at it.*_

_*Throb*_

_*Pop*_

_*Throb*_

_*I swear it's going to burst and Thumper's blood will cover the coffee table and I refuse to clean that shit up.*_

Bonnie fell off the arm of the couch because she laughed so hard at Damon's words.

"Pick up on aisle four."

Damon shouted from the other side of the study. Stefan added a look of utter frustration. Alaric shook his head and Jeremy of all people shushed them both.

This was their thing, text messages during group dinners and meetings. Word wars that transpired over sleek and stylish screens, which had somehow morphed into sarcastic hellos with underlying meanings. Thank goddess for an unlimited text and data plan because they were averaging over five thousand nonsensical arguments a day.

Secret strategy sessions, that was the phrase Damon had coined, the day he reached for her phone, thumbed through the contacts, added his number, email, and the all important super secret cell number before snapping his picture, and finally downloading Hinder's All American Nightmare as his ringtone. It was the perfect song, he did make the good girls bad and bad girls worse, but who would have the eldest Salvatore any other way.

Always a man of action, Damon immediately composed a text from her cell and directed it to his phone. A moment later he repeated the earlier process with his own device, saving her number, snapping her picture, only to remain stumped by a library of songs as he struggled to find which one would fit the little witch he loved to torture. She was sure he'd finalized his decision when his eyes glazed over with a look she'd never seen before. She craned her neck and tried to sneak a peek at the selection on the screen but just as quickly as he'd appeared Damon vanished.

Bonnie thought nothing of that cold and blustery day, months earlier, until long after Stefan's pontifications ended for the day and she was settled in an oversized chair, hopelessly bored in front of a warm and comforting fire.

Damon was in the basement fighting over blood bags with Caroline.

Elena and Stefan had disappeared behind the safety of the serious Salvatore's bedroom door.

There was no one to stop her. Curiosity killed the cat and it became necessity for her to know exactly what song he'd chosen to alert him of her texts, emails, or calls. Bonnie looked over her shoulder and tiptoed to the coffee table. She grabbed the phone and hesitated, sure that Damon was on his up the stairs. When she was confident that her plan had not been detected she hurried back to her place by the fire.

She was strangely excited by what she would discover. It was amazing what the deafening riffs of the guitar and Austin's gritty voice did for her mood whenever her phone slid across whatever surface it was on when the prince of snark called. Immediately she would be energized by the promise of a hate tinged, sexual tension filled argument.

That was Damon…hate…sex…love…passion…

Bonnie erased the thought from her mind. Curling into a tight ball, she retrieved her phone from her pocket and dialed Damon's number. She drummed her fingers on her thigh and waited. Two beats and several rapid breaths later, what Bonnie heard was unexpected. Strings strummed and a melancholy voice filled the room with a familiar echo of love. She recognized the lyrics immediately, but she'd never heard the version. Her heart ached with the yearning hidden behind the songstress' voice. Her lips moved and she began to sing along, another piece of her soul crumbled with every note.

Unknowingly Damon had afforded her a momentary glance at the real him and the feelings hidden for his favorite little witch. The music ended and Bonnie continued to sing.

"Enough Bennett, Stefan's already eaten tonight, there's no need to kill any cats, bunnies, deer, or sexy undead gods of desire."

His lips curled around the make shift straw in the blood bag; still she saw it, the loneliness he masked with witty comebacks and empty threats. They were a wall erected to keep the world out.

Damon Salvatore was determined never to hurt again.

A promise she understood all to well.

Bonnie smiled, "Thought I'd take care of breakfast tonight, you know save him a little work." She shoved the phone beneath the chair's pillow.

He wasn't ready for her hugs or love..._yet_

* * *

_ *Damon's ringtone is Hinder's 'All American Nightmare'_

_*Bonnie's ringtone is Adele's 'Lovesong' - yep a cover of The Cure's original - beyond beautiful_


	6. Mine

_Bonnie and Damon like to play..._

_And I don't mean at the playground..._

_Sometimes it's a little...um...twisted...this one might make you a teensy weensy bit squicky...not much_

_**Mine**_

Bonnie's always liked to hurt him.

At first she blamed it on the past.

The liberties he took with Caroline.

The dangerous game perpetuated with Elena and his brother's heart.

The fangs that met her flesh and drank of the life only meant for her veins. 

Emily's grimoire taught her a trick, shared a secret of how to swell and force the power from a vampire's brain. 

It wasn't enough. 

So she dug deeper, seeking something that would make her mark permanent. A reminder of the control nature had given her over him. Their tense arguments were not enough, in fact they bordered on foreplay. An admission she refused to repeat aloud. 

The first time they kissed it was a violent affair. She drew blood, biting down on his tongue and digging her nails into the dead flesh on his back. He groaned, pressing the hardened reaction in his jeans against her. The exchanges grew more brutal. She let him drink from her, but only after she had ingested vervain. It was enjoyable to watch his immortality evaporate; the fingertips that clutched at the burning sensation in his throat. She could climax on that sight alone. She would always take away the pain before it was too late; allowing him a drop of untainted blood and a kiss to make everything okay. 

Their affair was sick…twisted…sadistic 

Strangely Damon returned begging for more. 

Bonnie wanted more. 

Her body reacted to the site of the monster that once haunted her dreams. On his knees, back low, ass elevated in anticipation of what would come.

The heat pooled at her tender center and she took a moment to tease the soft folds that desired him. The vampire writhed as her scent met his nose. Damon was stretched out on black silk sheets. Wrists and ankles lightly bound. It would have been easy for him to escape and to take what she displayed. Yet he lay there, obediently and politely requested the first round of her torture. 

Bonnie dipped her fingers in the bowl of water and leaves; mixing her nectar with the venom in the glass dish. Moving closer to the bed, the witch drew a line that started at the nape of his neck and continued along the curve his spine. She wrote words that showcased how her obsession had morphed into something that would no longer be denied. 

He was branded and scarred. 

His back sizzled as her name became visible. 

"Mine." 

She whispered as she removed the bindings, meeting the icy blue gaze. 

Bonnie watched as he turned, back still lit with pain. She allowed her head to fall to her shoulder in a quiet offering. 

A silent promise as fangs ripped the faintly scarred flesh with a new promise. Between sips Damon echoed her declaration, "Mine."


	7. Whimpers

_Okay, so I was bitten by the smut fairy with this update. As a warning, there's little guy on guy action in this one. As well as an added party to the Damon and Bonnie tale. He's just a guest star. The last episode created a new OT3 on the Vampire Diaries for me. Hope you enjoy. _

**_Whimpers_**

Bonnie likes to whimper and _moan_.

She curses a lot too.

The shit is driving Damon over the edge.

He can hear it all.

The way the leather of the couch creaks every time she raises her hips to meet that kid's tongue. The incoherent musings that fly from her lips as her body is explored. He can hear each swipe of the muscle in Jeremy's mouth as it flickers and covers the sweetest part of her.

Insanity is on the way.

He looks around, wondering why Stefan hasn't lost his superbly practiced control. Then he remembers his brother feigns maturity and is probably ignoring the noises the witch is making. Always the saint, Damon's seen the ways his eyes linger on Bonnie, one minute too long when Elena's back is turned. It's always been that way; the Salvatores have a thing for witches. Or maybe taste would be a more adequate description. His brother is young and foolishly in love, so Damon will excuse him, this time.

What he doesn't quite understand is the reaction of the bubbly blonde. Yes the two girls are friends, sisters even. So of course she would be happy for Bonnie and this newfound teenage lust. Yet with her new untapped awareness, Damon was expecting Caroline to fly down the stairs, barge into the study, and demand that cheerleader and her boy toy stop whatever prohibited activity their doing. Instead he doesn't miss the unmistakable sound of cotton leaving the baby vamp's bottom or the diligent work of her fingers that follows. She's enjoying the show.

So should he.

At first Damon only rubs his budding erection through his jeans. Convinced the fascination with what Jeremy is doing to make Bonnie use a round _fucks _and _shits_, can't be all that interesting. He's still certain that he's more talented, years of practice have done much to boost his ego. A chill snakes its way down his spine when Bonnie swallows a high pitched near scream and curiosity kills the cat forcing Damon from the comfort of his room.

In spite of the face in her pillow, he can decipher how close Caroline is to climaxing when he passes her room. He could pop in finish her off but he decides against it. Been there, done that, no need for him to go back.

Stefan's trying to seduce his brown – eyed girlfriend and she's just staved him off with the old, "I'm tired," excuse.

It would all be highly amusing if…

Bonnie Bennett didn't sound like _that._

Damon lingers at the top of the stairs, still rubbing himself, pinching nipples, and begging for the torture to finally end. His body shudders as he takes the stairs two at a time.

He should really be angry.

They're in his home, leaking bodily fluids, on custom made furniture.

His senses are under attack from scents and sounds that even the most devout, celibate man would buckle with whisper of whiff. And all of it is not for him. It's for some post pubescent ass hat that is tired of being human and thinks his quickest way into the supernatural world is the girl he's screwing. The girl Damon should be fucking.

He stands in the door of the study watching.

Jeremy and Bonnie…

The dumbass has probably been crushing on the green eyed beauty since he could talk.

He couldn't blame him.

_If things were different…_

Damon would be with the witch.

His mind drifts as he slips slowly into the room. He's swift, moving closer to them. He stands over the two, unzipping his pants, stroking, imagining what it would feel like to trade places with Jeremy for only a minute. That's all it would take to change her mind. She so close, his fingers stretch to caress her cheek and it's then that her eyes open and she sees him.

He expects pain or the haughty look that frequents her face. What he receives is a smile that exceeds his own. She moves just for him, allowing her mouth to open, and all the dirty little things she's thinking and saying to be fully heard.

Jeremy's pressing her legs further apart, humming against her skin, and teasing the orgasm from her body. He's fully committed to the act and he quickly earns more of Damon's respect.

Bonnie arches higher and for the first time he can see her wetness. The way the kid's tongue glides in and out of her center. The lips that encase the tiny bundle of nerves that's makes the Glenda the good witch turn into her leather wearing sister from the west. His mouth waters and he knows he wants to taste her. When she finally climaxes, it's a bittersweet affair. He's walking slowly backwards, mourning the loss of the sounds that have filled the manor, and regretting that he didn't snap the youngest Gilbert's neck again so he could have a chance.

Damon's nearly out of the door when fingertips brush the back of his neck. Surprisingly it's not Bonnie, but Jeremy. The boy's eyes are wide with lust, his face glistening with _her_. Living well over 160 years affords one an opportunity to delight in many pleasures of the flesh. There's not much the vampire hasn't done.

So when Jeremy steps closer, hands wrapping around Damon's hard dick, he accepts what comes next; the kiss and the taste of the little witch, his little witch on Gilbert's tongue. He doesn't complain when the kid falls to his knees and puts his mouth to work all over again. In fact he simply stares at Bonnie and that evil smirk that causes him to release everything he has to offer down her boyfriend's throat. Now he knows why Tyler and Jeremy had that love – hate relationship for so long until he finally won Bonnie's heart.

Bonnie…

This time it's her fingers that bring her to completion, but it's not the last thing she'll feel tonight. Not if Damon has anything to say about it.

It's funny that Jeremy escorts him to Bonnie, nods in approval as Damon removes the rest of his clothes, and slides between her legs. He doesn't say a word when the vampire threads his finger through her hair and twists it around his hand, pulling her head back and up, until their lips meet. He just stands there gasping watching the scene unfold before him. Maybe he'll thank Damon later for the front row seat to the best porno of his life.

Damon wraps Bonnie's legs around him and sinks into her completely. Her lips quiver and he can hear it, the promise of a round of expletives created only for him. He slips out of her and thrusts back in, deeper, harder this time. He continues this way until she's nearly floating above the chair, nails digging into his chest, and finally a Salvatore name on her tongue. If he knew then what he knows now, he would have played nice with her a long time ago.

The sound of a throat clearing, grabs his attention.

Jeremy wants in, who is he to deny him?

So Damon points to the floor, directing Jeremy to the space where he's joined to Bonnie. Gilbert follows instructions well, alternating the rhythm of his tongue with Damon's strokes and it doesn't take long before the witch is damn near climbing the wall.

Damon pumps.

Jeremy licks.

Bonnie whimpers…moans…curses…_finally_…

When the trio comes to their senses, there's some embarrassment, well at least on one of their parts. Whispered promises about keeping things just between the three of them. Damon stuffs his legs into his jeans and slides the t – shirt over his head, "Sure." His eyes devour Bonnie's still naked frame and even spare a few seconds for Gilbert over in the corner, shoving limbs back into his clothing, "We'll have to do this again some time…_soon_."


	8. Generational Curse

_So I went from bitten by the smut fairy to attacked by the angst brigade. I apologize in advance. I wanted to focus on Bonnie's history and well yeah this happened. _

_Thanks again for the reviews and alerts. Vizzy, I am working on your request. You should see that one soon. For the record, their will be a sequel posted for the last update. I'll do that as a separate story. Until next time, enjoy :)_

_** Generational Curse**_

Contrary to popular belief - Damon Salvatore wasn't the only one with _issues_.

Bonnie Bennett was a card carrying member of the never open your heart for it to be broken club. She loved her friends, fiercely, that was obvious based upon the continuous sacrifices she made. Neither life nor death stood in the way when it came to Elena or Caroline. At times she'd even include Stefan and Jeremy in her small inner circle. She counted them as extended members of her family, but guys…dudes… there were always difficulties when it came to them and a crazy little thing called love, especially with Damon Salvatore.

Some could and would say it started with her first kiss; a half hearted attempt that netted Bonnie a wounded spirit and an evil glare in arsenal that she would forever reserve for Tyler Lockwood. However if you asked Bonnie, she would tell you that it all began at home. The two story house with a row of white rocking chairs on the front porch; a kitchen heavy with the scent of kale, sweet bread, and herbs whose names her five year old tongue could never pronounce.

Her childhood had been filled with love, laughter, and happiness _until_…

There were two days that were never discussed by the Bennett family. One was the last time she ever saw her mother. Bonnie was still in pigtails when the woman packed her bags and walked away, without even a look of regret for leaving the daughter she'd bore a few years before. The other was the day the sky turned black and tears of blood spilled from her grandmother's eyes.

Sheila Bennett had only been in love once. Bonnie could recall the stories her grandmother shared over nightly bubble baths before she tucked her into bed. They were tales of dances, dates, secret kisses, and the reality that her heart would always belong to Pierre Talley. Even now she found it hard to picture her grandfather's face. She could recall the broad shoulders, lean lines, and kind eyes. If she focused long and hard, Bonnie could still see the smooth caramel head that her father's now mirrored and the large hands that held so much strength when he reached for her and lifted her tiny body above his head to the sky. And there, on the edge of her memory, were flashes of the salt and pepper beard that always got a little fuller and grew a lot longer around Christmas.

Bonnie's papa had been her hero. He wasn't different like Grams and he worried a lot. Wrinkled brows and bloodshot eyes adorned his face before the full smile replaced them whenever she came into view. Even if his features were grainy in the dreams that still plagued her at night, she did remember the silent pleading he often did with the woman he loved. The hushed tones in which they argued and the unspoken threats he issued by expressive eyes. He would walk away and leave _it_ and his family all behind. He never did. He was always there the next day, arms open wide for his granddaughter and the same concern masked by a slow southern drawl.

For years they thought she didn't recall his funeral and the events that preceded it. At the time it couldn't be explained, but in the days since the Salvatores' reappearance, Klaus' reign of terror, and the discovery of the power of the moon, she understood her papa's death all too well. Her life had been filled with pain piled on top of pain.

Bonnie's father didn't talk much about the past. Not since his father's death or her mother's departure. Then when Grams died, the wall between father and daughter rose higher and he shut her completely. He was now a man consumed with work and avoiding the truths he knew existed in the shadows ofMysticFalls.

It was agonizing, watching him morph into a shell of the man who could have been. He was talented, no where near as versed in magic as Jonas, but she remembered a time when flowers would grow from the palm of her father's hand. Then the day came that their family's craft became more of a curse and less of a gift.

Love begat pain. So she avoided it; closed off in a world of spells and loyalty to the lives of her friends, until the day blue eyes pierced her soul and read her like a book. Bonnie lied to herself, Damon, and any subsequent feelings about him were related only to lust. An intricate mixture of hatred and passion laid the foundation for what they now shared.

She tried to deny the truth even after warm lips touched cool and her heart ceased to beat for a full thirty seconds.

"You love me."

It wasn't a question Damon posed, but a statement of fact. Bonnie wanted to answer _yes_; instead she attacked, lashing out the only way she knew how, with pain; assaults on his mind until he was crippled by the invisible shards of glass that penetrated the soft tissue of his brain forcing him to the ground. Their battles were violent - their arguments vicious. Her heart broke when the evil words she spoke met her ears. No one deserved that much hatred, but she couldn't apologize. She could _never_ buckle under the weight of her feelings.

Losing _him_ just wasn't an option.


	9. Hands Off

_This is the last Snapshot. I've got a few other ideas I want to move on to and interests appears to be down on these. So I hope you guys have enjoyed. Thanks for reading. I'll be back with something else, soon. _

** Hands Off**

"I need you to stay here with Bonnie."

Stefan tried to play the older, calmer brother but Damon refused to surrender his right to supreme dominance over the younger Salvatore any time soon.

"Absolutely not," Damon shrugged as he poured his first drink of the evening. "The witch is your problem baby brother, not mine, now if we were discussing Elena, then maybe…"

A defensive edge worked its way into Stefan's voice and shoulders,"I can't…" The youngest Salvatore's voice flitted two octaves above its normal level. "I can't stay here with Bonnie." Stefan bit his bottom lip, "Not while she's like…like…" He pointed, "_that."_

Damon followed his brother's eyes as they landed on Bonnie's scantily clad form; smooth legs, peeking from the shortest pair of cut off jeans and a black tank, Damon's black tank intimately adorning her curves. She looked good and the once bubbly cheerleader picked that moment to lick her lips and curve her lips into a very salacious grin. It didn't take long for the familiar monster to crawl up the back of his right thigh and settle in the spot stretching and making Damon's jeans extremely unbearable.

Slowly, the elder brother, swallowed the lust on his tongue and reprimanded Stefan, "Serves you right for letting her practice with vampire Barbie, what did you expect?"

A lazy afternoon…

A newly discovered grimoire…

Now the Scooby Gang had Bonnie gone wild.

"Where's her boyfriend? Let him babysit."

Damon poured another glass, eyes still following the movements of the witch across the room.

She fell to the couch, knees bent beneath her, "We're on a break."

The sexual tension in the room increased ten folds with the revelation. A break, she needed a man not a boy, but somehow he couldn't help thinking that once this little spell passed, the lovely Miss Bennett would run back to the arms of Jeremy Gilbert; unless she had a reason not to.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, she was just his type. Yes she smiled brightly, answered sweetly, however she'd taken on Klaus without fear. Enjoyed watching the big bad ass vamp fall to his knees and beg for his life. She'd laughed when his eyes rolled back and he turned to dust.

Boredom and idle hands led to danger. None of them saw any warning in the words of the book. They were silly spells centered on love, lust, and sex. She didn't even finish the incantation before the changes in personality could be seen. Bonnie had shed the layers of clothes that covered her body. The study was littered with random essentials; bra, shoes, jeans, leather jacket. Who knew the girl could make a tank and cut-offs look that good. Her voice was deeper - more seductive. She stalked when she walked, like she was hunting.

Damon forced his eyes from where she sat, intently watching the brother's exchange.

"Elena and I are going to Falls Church for Valerian root; we'll be back before dawn." Stefan aimed a pointed glare in Damon's direction, "Hands off."

"Where's the fun in that baby brother?"

The door slammed after Stefan issued another warning to Damon.

Bonnie was in front of Damon as soon as Stefan peeled out of the driveway. Her fingertips traveled the veins in his arms, dancing along the cuts of the defined muscles. He was sure if he could breathe he wouldn't be able to at this point. She placed her palms in the center of his chest and felt her warmth and power. Her hands slipped beneath his shirt and he hissed. He indulged in the sensations she created. He followed her path of discovery and waited to see just how things would go. All off his questions were answered when she slid his zipper lower and gripped him through the slit in his boxers.

"Stefan didn't tell me to keep my hands off."


End file.
